


Of Summer Hotel Rooms

by FranklyFrazzled



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-25
Updated: 2013-05-25
Packaged: 2017-12-12 22:41:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/816899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FranklyFrazzled/pseuds/FranklyFrazzled
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cleanliness is next to godliness but they were on vacation. They didn't want to be godly; they wanted to be dirty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Summer Hotel Rooms

**Author's Note:**

> First piece of football slash I ever wrote. Also oddly reminiscent of The Killing of the Sow?

Something happened when Christoph closed the hotel door after them. It was nothing that could be explained or even be clearly defined. The moment they heard the door click shut, the sensible and rational parts of their brains turned off and they found themselves in a primitive state of mind.

 A tension began to build from that very moment. They blamed it on the heat. The room was sweltering and humid. There was a balcony but neither of them opened the door. The idea of fresh air to help clear their heads or air out their bodies was distant and if either of them thought about it, it was never long enough to actually do so.

 They stayed locked up in their hotel room for entire week straight. They didn’t leave once. All their meals were sent up to them and a “do not disturb” sign hung on the outside of their door so no maid would try to come in and force them out. (Cleanliness is next to godliness but they were on vacation. They didn’t want to be godly; they wanted to be dirty.)

 They hadn’t planned on spending their vacation like this. It was the heat. The heat made them do everything from throwing the contents of their suitcase all over the floor to watching old, American black and white cowboy films with the volume all the way up. They screamed at the top of their lungs and played football on top of their beds. (What management didn’t know couldn’t hurt them. The walls were so thick for a reason.)

 The night before they were set to leave, the tension became unbearable.

 Christoph was watched Sebastian jump and scream like the Indians on the television on his bed. Sweat poured down the counters of his well muscled chest and arms, mixing with lines of smeared toothpaste. (It had made sense at the time. Bright blue war paint all over his body. He’d gasped as Christoph had applied it to his body, it feeling strange and minty on his skin.)

 He felt himself begin to shake with some unidentified emotion as he watched his friend longer. It felt like rage. He imagined balling his hands into fists and laying them on his friend, one blow coming directly after the other. (No, that wasn’t right. He didn’t want to hurt him. Did he?) But the shaking got worse. He wanted something. His eyes met Sebastian’s and something fell into place. He could tell; Sebastian was feeling it too.

 Christoph jumped onto the same bed and pushed his friend roughly against the wall. Their eyes never left each others. “I want to hurt you. I want to hurt you,” his eyes whispered. “Do it, come on,” Sebastian’s countered. They both felt like screaming. Something was not right. They felt like animals in human skin.

 Instead of using his fists, Christoph brought his mouth down upon his friend’s. Their bodies joined, first at the mouths in a searing kiss, and then their chests pressed tightly together. There were gun shots going off on the TV but the only thing they could hear was the noise of their two hearts beating against each other, louder than too freight trains. (They were beating so hard, like they were trying to rip a hole in the ribs and skin that separated them. Like they wanted to be together. Needed.)

 They gave into the spirit of their holiday. That night their bodies joined violently together with intense passion that made them feel somewhat barbarian. (In real life, they were footballers, not aristocrats. Many people expected they be like this all the time. Not just when they were locked away. The heat. It was all the heat.) The tension had reached its climax and they lay afterwards in each others arms, not saying a word but feeling calm for the first time in a week.

 When Christoph came to in the morning, it was to the sent of wet grass and a cool breeze coming from the balcony. The first thing he noticed upon opening his eyes was that he was alone. Sebastian wasn’t in bed with him or in the other bed across the room. As he searched the room for his friend, he gaped at the spotless room he remembered being filthy when he had fallen asleep.

 In the corner lay all of his things laid next to Sebastian’s, ready for check out. He up sat in bed, confused as to how all this happened. He imagined that his friend hadn’t slept at all the night before. He pictured him pacing around the room, hot and sore, cleaning the trashed hotel room until it was spotless, unable to sleep after their nightly activity.

 Oh. That.

 He wasn’t sure if he was hurt or not. Should he be? With fresh air coming in, it was a lot easier to think and rationalize what they had done. Still, he wasn’t sure what to make of it.

 Getting up, a pair of neatly placed papers on the dresser caught his eye. They were the plane tickets that were supposed to take them both home. In an instant he understood everything his friend had been trying to convey to him better than if Sebastian had bothered to write a note.

 He had two options put before him. One, he could take his ticket and bags and simple leave. Sebastian would come back to the room, see his absence then meet him at the airport. They would never speak about their week together and certainly not of their night of passion.

 Option two, he stay. He could wait until Sebastian got back from wherever he was and they could spend the rest of their lives there, in that hotel room. (If not literally than metaphorically and they would take this newfound love and passion back with them to Germany and be _happy_ together.)

 Sebastian came back to an empty room with two cups of coffee. Without a word or even pause, he threw the second cup into the trash. Calmly, he grabbed his ticket and bag, leaving the room without looking back.


End file.
